Persephone and Hades: A Modern Tale
by crystals-for-food
Summary: Hayden Styx is a business CEO who is forced to go on a vacation by his two younger brothers. He arrives at the Harvest Resort and Day Spa only to meet Persephone Spring, the college student who works with her mother to run the resort after her finals, and they immediately but very subtly hit it off. But when Persephone's mother, Demeter, finds out, she doesn't approve.
1. The Grecian Arrival

Stepping off the plane was a long awaited mercy for Hayden Styx. He hated airplanes. Not because the people were loud or because the babies and children cried constantly but because he had no control over his own life. He had entrusted his well-being to the pilot and the Fates as soon as he boarded the craft. Although not overly religious, Hayden had prayed to each and every god he thought might exist – especially Hades from whose name his employees had nicknamed him. Hayden "Hades" Styx. It sounded corny. However, he couldn't say it wasn't justified. His younger brothers used to always comment on how boring Hayden was (he complained about it every once in a while), just like how the Greek gods Poseidon and Zeus whined about Hades, and Hayden wore a lot of black suits that could be somewhat compared to Hades' black robes. Both Hayden and Hades shared the same dark hair, pale skin, and liquid black eyes, but Hayden had never kidnapped any gorgeous flower goddesses and caused the world's worst famine. His assistant, Chance, sometimes brought one-step-above-pornographic posters of blonde and blue-eyed women along with Hayden's morning coffee. Chance would wink and say, "Well? This one float your boat?"

In fact, it was Chance who called Hayden right as he got off the plane. "Hey, Hades. Did you make it in one piece?" Chance asked, barely withholding a chuckle.

"Now that you mention it, I left my stomach back in Turkish airspace," Hayden mumbled. "I was trying not to think about how I nearly threw up four times."

"Come on, the Taj Mahal would have loved to have another priceless artifact. Your barf is legendary. Big bad ol' Hades finally has a weakness."

"The Taj Mahal is in India, not Turkey, Chance. It's located on the Yamuna River in the city of Agra. Also, it's a mausoleum, not a museum." Hayden grabbed a shrink-wrapped sandwich in a small shop and paid for it, the woman at the counter smiling at him kindly. He nodded to her and then moved his carry-on bag strap farther up his shoulder.

Chance huffed, static crackling through the line as Hayden stepped through a bad patch. "They sound the same," he murmured, sounding like a pouting child.

"Not really. Please, Chance, remind me why I hired you," Hayden said, a small smile tilting the corners of his mouth. He reached the baggage claim and searched for the number that corresponded with the one on the baggage receipt.

"I'm handsome and my ass is perky," Chance replied, and Hayden could practically hear the wink in his voice.

"The reason changes every time I ask that question. Last time, it was, 'When aliens abducted me, they gave me the power to control people's free will.'" Hayden grabbed his suitcase from the conveyor rack and wheeled it out the door to a waiting taxi. "And before that, it was, 'The moon goddess told me I should work for a business mogul who's super hot and loves me for who I am.'"

Hayden could just see Chance shrugging and sitting in Hayden's office chair although Theodore should be the temporary CEO of Styx Law Firms and Justice Practices. "Where's Theodore?" Hayden asked before Chance could say something stupid like _No homo, bro_.

"Theo! Boss wants ya!" Chance yelled, not even bothering to pull his mouth away from the receiver. Hayden yanked his ear away from the phone, and the taxi driver who was helping him put his bag in the car gave him a weird look.

Hayden was about to growl at Chance for jumping the gun like always, but then Theo's brisk voice said, "Yes, boss? I'm sorry, I was checking up on the new employee we just hired when you called."

"No, Theodore. I'm sorry. Chance shouldn't have pulled you away from work. How is the new employee?" Hayden said, sliding into the backseat of the taxi cab. Greece's late afternoon spring heat beat down on him even inside the car, and he realized it didn't have an air conditioner. _Great,_ he thought.

"Boss, we shouldn't discuss work while you're on vacation. Did you manage to get to Greece safely?"

"Yes, Theodore. Thank you for asking."

Hayden's chest constricted when Theodore said they couldn't discuss work. What if something went wrong? _No, trust Theodore,_ a voice in his head whispered. _Theodore is trustworthy. He's very smart and can keep Chance in line better than even you._

Right. Trust Theodore. Easier said than done.

"You're welcome, boss," Theodore said, his professional tone hedging toward awkwardness.

"Okay, well, I should go," Hayden said. "Don't put Chance back on the phone, please. I will be back in a week." One long, long week. Seven days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds. "Goodbye."

Hayden hung up.

"So you are Mr. Styx, correct?" the taxi driver said. Hayden suddenly realized they hadn't moved at all; the car wasn't even on.

"Yes. Your sign was for a Mr. Hayden Styx, wasn't it?"

The taxi driver chuckled. "Know what Styx is?"

"Yes, it's the river that flowed in the Underworld in Greek mythology."

"Actually, there were three rivers. One for the preservation of memory and one for forgetfulness. The Styx was the one Charon ferried souls across."

"Thank you for the information, sir. You speak English very well."

The taxi driver ignored Hayden's compliment and continued on as he finally started the engine. "I think the river of memory was called Mnemosyne, and the river of forgetfulness was Lethe."

"Oh," Hayden said. He lost interest quickly and let the driver go on and on about Hades and the Underworld and Persephone and pomegranate seeds and Zeus and his obsession with sex. _Sounds like my youngest brother Zach,_ he thought.

The crowded Grecian streets choked any cool breeze out of the air, and Hayden felt like dying by the time he arrived at the resort. Two fountains splattered water and cool breezes over the arriving guests as they walked into the front entrance. Vibrant flowers – roses, violets, irises, lilies, and some he didn't recognize – sprouted magnificently along the staircase leading up to the doors. A garden peeked out from behind the main building, and Hayden saw even more colorful, blooming flowers overflowing into hedges and bubbling springs.

After shaking off his awe, he walked up to the front desk. Shit, they had _air conditioning_ in here. Hayden thought he was in heaven.

The receptionist behind the front desk gave him a big, welcoming smile. "Hello, sir!" she chirped. "What is the name for the reservation?"

"Styx. S-t-y-x," he said slowly to make sure she caught it all.

She smiled and nodded. "Of course, sir," she said. She muttered to herself in Greek before grabbing a card from under the desk. "Here is your key card, sir, for room 203 on the second floor. You will have to check out next Monday at eleven in the morning. There is a free continental breakfast every morning from seven to ten. If you have any questions, there is a phone in your room that can be used to contact guest services. Just dial the number one. Thank you for choosing Harvest Resort and Day Spa!"

Hayden took the card key and thanked the woman. A bellhop came to take his suitcase, but Hayden insisted he could take them. The bellhop gave him an unsatisfactory look before moving to help another customer that had come in. Apparently, although the vacation season started in April, this place wasn't all that popular. Or maybe too expensive. It _had_ come at a hefty price. Ten thousand dollars per night for an economic suite. But they had saunas and mud baths and massages and toe scrapings and "mani-pedis" which Zach's wife liked to get. They also had hot lava rocks and cocktail lounges and a weekly shuffleboard tournament. Hayden liked shuffleboard; it came more naturally to him than golf. Or any other rich people sport his friends sought to learn before their early retirements.

Once Hayden made it up to his room, he sat down on the bed and nearly groaned at the softness of it. Even first class airplane seats had nothing on soft, fresh mattresses. _That a thousand people have slept on before you,_ he suddenly thought.

"Okay. Time for a massage," he whispered to himself. He checked the map on the night desks and located the spa on the fourth floor. He hoped they would have a spot for him, but he could wait until tomorrow for a massage if necessary. He just needed to get out of this room. Though he would never admit it, raw aching loneliness had had crept in the moment he walked into the hotel room. This was a vacation, but he had nobody to spend it with. No one at all. His only friends were back in London, tending to his business. He cursed Zach and Xander for worrying about his stress levels and whatever other mid-life-crisis crap they occupied their below-average minds with.

 _Just go to the spa, Hayden,_ he told himself. He scraped his hands through his hair before stuffing his card key in his pocket and heading down the hallway. _I won't think about how miserable I am. I won't think about how miserable I am._

The chant felt like a punch to the stomach.

 _Never mind._


	2. The Massage

"Aς δούμε ποιος είναι ο νέος μου πελάτης [Let's see, who is my new customer]?" Persephone Spring mused, grabbing a file from the front desk. His name was Hayden Styx (he had marked out a few English letters, Had), and he wasn't allergic to anything. He had never had a massage, had never been to a resort before, and was in room three.

Christina Pome glanced up as Persephone perused the man's information. "είναι πολύ ωραίος [He's very handsome]," she said, winking.

Persephone pursed her lips then shrugged. He might be handsome, but he was still only a customer. She placed his file back down and headed toward room three, distantly wondering what he looked like. Maybe brown-haired with golden eyes? Blonde and blue-eyed like herself?

She pushed open the door three, blinking when she saw a dark-haired man with almost black eyes and pasty skin glance back at her. "Hello," he said carefully, awkwardly. She understood why. He was in a strange place with a strange woman and the only thing covering him was a blanket.

"Hello, Mr. Styx," she said in slow English. She knew English (a lot of the guests spoke it), but the words sometimes came out wrong if she wasn't paying attention. At least Στυξ [Styx] was familiar. The river that Charon ferried souls across on their journey to the Underworld. As a child, Persephone had a marvelous fascination toward the Ancient Greek myths since she was named after the Queen of the Underworld and her mother was named after the Goddess of the Harvest. She read about Persephone's punishment to the nymphs after Hades tried to seduce them; she read about Perseus and Medusa; she read about Heracles; she read about Hercules; she read about Achilles' heel. Anything and everything Ancient Greek-related, she read. {Author's Note: I'm sorry if I got Perseus and Medusa wrong, but I think it was him who fought Medusa.}

He offered her a disgruntled, close-lipped smile. "I'm sorry, I can't read your name tag very well from here. Is it Persephone?" he asked, his voice soft yet oddly authoritative. As if he was used to being a boss instead of a vacationer.

She nodded and stepped toward the bottles of oils and lotions on the counter in front of Hayden Styx. "Do you prefer a certain scent of oil or should I use unscented?" she asked, looking back at him. Her stomach flipped suddenly at the sight of his black eyes, intelligence sparking within the deep, dark pools. They seemed to stare right into her, and she resisted the urge to gulp down a fair amount of nerves.

"Unscented, please," he said courteously. He watched her either suspiciously or curiously (she couldn't quite tell which) as she uncapped a bottle of oil, placed the contents in a bowl, and stuck the bowl into the warmer alongside the hot towels and rocks.

"I'll start working out some of your knots," she said and walked over to him, gently placing his face through the space at the head of the chair. Her hands slid over his back, prodding a bit in some places only to find knots _everywhere_. She shook her head in disbelief. "Sir, I don't mean to pry, but what do you do for a living? Is it some kind of hard manual labor?"

"Though my occupation is of no necessity to you, no, I do not do hard labor," he said, his voice muffled yet acerbic. "My tightened muscles are most likely due to the way I lean toward my computer screen and hunch over during meetings."

Persephone nodded slowly, unaccustomed to introverted customers. Many vacationers liked telling their whole life's story, but this man seemed to want to keep it under lock and key. Not that she blamed him, it was simply different. A change of pace from the similar personalities of all the Harvest Resort guests. "I see. Why is it that you hunch over in meetings? You seem like the type of person to always maintain a rigid posture," she said, slowly circling a rather rough knot with her elbow.

Hayden Styx groaned involuntarily. Persephone bit back a giggle. She could almost see the discernible difference in him when she worked out that tight ball of muscle.

"Yes, I try to. However, running a business is stressful," he elaborated, grunting when she worked at his lower back.

"You run a business?" she asked, ravaging a spot on the right side of his spine.

He nodded, and she could practically hear him grinding his teeth to keep from making any more pleasured sounds. "Yes," he hissed, "in London."

"London? I thought I recognized your accent," she said, smiling at his obvious struggle. Though he was a customer and she should be making sure he was enjoying himself, his reactions made her laugh. She kneaded her elbow just beneath the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"God…" he muttered, his hands gripping the side of the pallet. "I can't tell if this is painful… or… not."

"It might be painful at first because your muscles are so tense," she told him, running her palms up his back. "But I promise, it will get better soon."

Hayden shook his head and bit his lower lip. "This is–this is not relaxing anymore," he growled. He twisted, trying to ease the pain collecting under Persephone's elbow.

"I'm sorry," Persephone murmured. "I really am. You're just so tense, and I think maybe if I work some of these knots out–"

"Yes, but this does not _feel_ good," Hayden snapped, turning over and glaring at her.

She smiled sheepishly and clasped her hands in front of her. "It must have felt good in some parts," she murmured, watching as his cheeks reddened. "I'm sorry, sir, I'll be gentler."

"You're mocking me," he grumbled. "I knew I shouldn't have done this. I don't need another person to tell me I'm stressed and need to relax and do something I'm not comfortable doing. I'm leaving right now. I have to go back to London, I can't sit and wait while my company might be burning to the ground."

Persephone blinked, surprised by his emotionally-charged outburst. He had been very monotone when speaking until now and… And he seemed genuinely angry. "Sir, can I help you talk through something?" she asked, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. "I seem to have unknowingly hit a nerve."

"No. I won't discuss my problems with a complete stranger," he said. His face twisted suddenly, and he gritted his teeth. "I won't." The way he said it made Persephone wonder if he knew her somehow, had seen her somewhere, but she had never seen him.

"Okay," she said. "Well… I won't tell anyone, if that makes you want to tell me."

"It doesn't."

"Okay."

He leveled his piercing gaze on her. "Please hand me my clothes," he snapped.

"Are you sure you want to leave?" she murmured, threading her fingers together then apart. If her mother knew that the resort had lost business because of Persephone, she wouldn't be happy. Not at all.

"Yes," he snapped. "Please hand me my clothes."

"Well…" she tried as she stood and took his clothes from the opposite empty chair behind her. "Well, you'll lose your money. We don't give refunds."

Hayden suddenly froze, one large hand outstretched for his garments. "You don't give refunds?" he muttered, looking at Persephone again with the same skin-shredding intensity.

"No, sir… Not once the customer is here."

"Shit!" He rubbed his palms over his face, tugging the skin down then letting it bounce back. "Then I have to stay… shit…"

Relief surged through Persephone, and she smiled. Then frowned. Best not to make the already angry customer even angrier. "Why do you have to stay?" she asked, placing his clothes beside him.

"My youngest brother paid for this trip. He handed me a plane ticket and told me I would be leaving on April twenty-seventh," he said, shaking his head. "I had to go. Or else I would have felt terrible."

Persephone blinked. "You were… forced to go on vacation?" she said. She'd seen customers hesitant about vacationing in a different country, but she hadn't ever heard of someone who was _forced_ to enjoy themselves. "I'm sure your brother meant well."

"Oh, he did," Hayden grumbled. He swiped his hand down his face and gripped his hair. "But this vacation, it took me away from my company. It's my life. I know, I'm a loser and lame and whatever other label you want to attach to me because I work eighty hours a week, but this vacation is stressing me out more than my job. And I don't have the heart to fire Chance."

Persephone had no idea who Chance was, but she could tell he drove Hayden crazy. She twiddled her thumbs, smiling a little at how he had imparted his emotional baggage onto her. Maybe he had chosen to, but she thought that he did it accidentally. He would realize soon. Of that she had no doubt.

"Shit," Hayden growled again, his head tipping back as he realized what he'd done. "How the hell did you do that?" He fixed her with a half-glare, half-stare, and she scratched the back of her head.

"I don't know," Persephone said. "I am very sorry. But I told you, I will not tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me."

"I guess it's not a secret," he muttered.

Persephone rubbed her arm. "Anything you want to be a secret can be."

"Yeah."

Hayden picked his button-down shirt from his clothes pile and put it on, his movements lethargic. He didn't look at her until he'd buttoned it all the way up to the top. "Could you please leave? I'm going to get dressed," he said, his voice hard. He straightened his back, and Persephone could tell that he was done spilling his emotions to a complete stranger. She didn't blame him.

"Yes, sir," she said.

The feeling you get when someone stares at you – the way heat prickles the back of your neck – was absent as Persephone exited the room. He refused to look at her, at least that was what she told herself. "I'm sorry," she said, holding the brass doorknob.

"I accept your apology," he replied. "I'm sorry too."

"For what, sir? You didn't do anything."

"For wasting your time."

"You did not."

Hayden shrugged. "I feel a bit like I did. Mostly because my nickname is Hades," he said. "I'm Hades. You're Persephone. It was awkward for me to know that I ran into someone so ironically. I hope you don't want me to kidnap you with a chariot or anything now that you know that."

Persephone grinned. "I don't expect anything from you, Mr. Hades," she giggled. "But I do have a desire to get a pomegranate drink tonight. If you feel lonely, you could meet me in the bar tonight. I work a shift there every night. You might not want to because you don't like me, but you're here alone, so… I could give you a free drink if you want." She shrugged. "Again, if you don't want to, I completely understand."

"I'll… give it a thought," Hayden said, his eyes widening ever so slightly. He quickly returned to his stoic expression, but Persephone had seen the shock. And registered it. He had given it some thought – a second or two, but a thought. Still, she doubted he would seek her out. She doubted he would come out of his room for the entire duration of his stay. She hoped he would… She liked his honesty however coarse it might be.

"Goodbye," she said and shut the door.

She could hear a muffled, bewildered goodbye from behind it.

 _ **Thank you to addine995 for submitting the correct translations!**_


	3. Update Time

I will update this story by this Saturday, August 13th. Thank you for everyone who has read my story and reviewed it! It is appreciated since this is my first story on this site, and it's nice to get some positive feedback!


	4. The Hair and the Mother

Hayden didn't sleep well that night. The bed felt lumpy and hot, and the temperature in the room felt way too cold when he kicked the sheets off.

He woke up the next morning after a tentative two-hour nap with a stomach ache. "Shit," he muttered. He sat up and rifled through his bag for a bottle of ibuprofen. Once he found it, he staggered into the bathroom and filled a plastic cup with water, gulping down two pills just to be safe.

Birds chirped outside his window, and he glared at them. They were making too much damn _noise_. He laid back down and waited thirty minutes for the painkillers to kick in before standing up once again and getting dressed. He chose comfortable, white silk pants and a linen, button-down shirt. The outfit was light enough for Greece's spring heat and modest enough for him. After making sure there were no wrinkles on either of the garments, he deemed himself publicly worthy and walked out of the hotel room. A strange fear hit him as he crossed the lobby to the garden: What if Persephone saw him? What would he even say to her?

"Have a good day, sir," the desk clerk called to him.

He started and then nodded to her. She reminded him of his receptionist back in England, but her hair was blond, not brown. He wondered why he was even thinking about that.

When he entered the garden, he was surprised to see a cook making omelets at a long bar filled with toast and seasonal marmalades, eggs with clotted cream, and cold meats and cheeses. Several people picked through the spread, holding plates already partially filled. Tables and benches encircled a patio with a cloth awning that read _Harvest Resort and Spa_.

"I don't remember reading that they had a breakfast in the brochure," he mumbled to himself. "Maybe because you have to pay for it."

Though, there didn't seem to be anyone taking down names or room numbers. Hayden made his way toward it, slipping past clumps of guests who completely ignored him.

The sun was already beating down on him, making him sweat, when he sat on one of the empty benches. He slowly ate his toast, ham, and cheese despite the intense heat. The guests around him paid no attention to him except for a few young women who kept shooting glances his way. He didn't know if they thought he was handsome or if he had something in his teeth. He pulled out his phone and turned the camera to a forward position to check. No, there was nothing in his teeth. But was that a yellow stain?

When the temperature climbed to thirty-two degrees Celsius, he decided to head back inside the hotel. He stayed in the lobby for a while, unsure as to what to do today. He didn't want to call a cab and sightsee in this horribly hot weather, and he didn't want to head back to the spa because Persephone might be there. So, he decided to go back up to his room and change into his swimming trunks. The ocean wasn't too far away, and he was positive he could survive that taxi ride.

He noticed his bed had been made while he was gone. The pillows were fluffed, too. He grabbed his swim trunks and pulled them on in the bathroom away from the windows and tugged on a cotton T-shirt and a pair of sandals. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to flatten it down, but a few strands refused to cooperate. There was no use putting product in it since he was just going to get it wet anyway; however, it still bothered him to no end.

Before he left, he checked to see if the sheets had been changed. It bothered him when they weren't because at home, his maid changed his sheets every day. He pulled back the comforter and the sheet. And found himself staring at a long, brown hair.

Hayden picked it up, glaring daggers at it. "You have infested my bed with sicknesses, dandruff, and who knows what else," he growled at it. It seemed to quiver as his breath blew it this way and that.

He grabbed the cord phone and punched in the front desk's number, listening to it ring three times with growing frustration until somebody finally picked up.

"Hello. How can I help you, sir?" a woman's voice asked on the other end.

"There are two things that I want. I want my sheets changed again, and I want your employees to start wearing hair nets," Hayden said coolly, his tone steely and commanding. "Would you please send someone up to change my sheets, someone with covered hair preferably?"

The request was more of an order, and the woman seemed flabbergasted by both the request and his tone. "Sir, why do you need your sheets changed again?" she asked.

"Because I found a hair in my sheets."

"A… hair, sir?"

"Yes, a hair."

"Sir, I am sorry, but how do you know it is not yours?"

"Because I don't have long or brown hair. And definitely not both."

There was a long pause before the woman said, "I am not sure if a hair constitutes as a health violation or if it's worth wasting water over, sir."  
"Excuse me?" Hayden growled. He clenched the hair in his hand, the strand hanging limply over his thumb. "Say that again."

"I cannot change your sheets again, sir, for something so minor."

 _"_ _Minor?"_

"Yes, sir."

"Hairs can carry skin cells, diseases, dandruff, even lice. This is not minor, what if your employee has lice, and I contract it too? I could sue you over that! And trust me, I would win, hands down."

"Are you threatening me, sir?"

"Where is your manager? I wish to speak with them." He glared up at his clock. "And you better hurry. I don't like being put on hold. In fact, I despise it."

"I am the manager on duty as well as the owner of the resort."

Hayden's face steamed, turning bright red with rage. His chest contracted, and he glared at the receiver maliciously. "Then, ma'am, send someone up and stop arguing with me," he hissed. "You should care about your guests more than this."

The woman took a deep breath, her own anger barely contained as she said, "I will send someone up."

"Thank you," he growled lowly. He slammed the phone back down and glared at the hair in his hand. "I wonder how long it will take them to come up." He tossed the hair in the trash can.

There was a knock on the door ten minutes later. Hayden bit the inside of his cheek, irritated at how long it had taken them. He ripped open the door and glared at the willowy old lady in front of him. "That was a long time to wait," he snapped.

The lady looked up at him like she knew him, and Hayden realized it must be the owner of the resort he talked to on the phone. "I am sorry, sir," she said. She didn't sound apologetic.

Hayden moved aside to let her in, snorting as she walked past. He suddenly noticed someone suppressing a giggle, and he turned, surprised to find Persephone laughing behind a pile of bright white sheets. "P-P-Persephone," he stuttered, his body stiffening.

"Hello, Hayden," she said cheerfully. She walked past him, smiling like this was all just a fantastic practical joke. "Now where is this hair you were all worked up about?"

"Hair?" he asked, confused for a moment. "Oh, yes, hair." He bumped into the bathroom, utterly graceless, and plucked the hair from the top of the trash pile. "Right here. See, it's long and brown. I have short black hair." He held it out for Persephone to take, and she plucked it carefully as if she were picking flowers.

"I see. It is not yours," she said, looking mock-serious. It should have irritated Hayden, but he couldn't quite bring himself to be.

In the sunshine streaming through the windows, she looked so beautiful. Her flaxen hair gleamed like spun gold, and her bright eyes swallowed the rest of the world, leaving him in her world only. He had never felt this way before, and it was unnerving him to his core.

"Persephone, hurry. We have other duties to attend to," the owner pressed. She had already stripped most of the bed bare, and her dark eyes were hard as she stared at Persephone.

"Oh, yes. Of course, Mama," Persephone said. She smiled at Hayden, bowed, and placed the strand of hair back in his palm. He felt like he was being given a bag of gold. He had no idea why.

"Wait. 'Mama'?" Hayden asked aloud. He tilted his head questioningly.

Persephone grinned as she worked the pillow cases from the pillows. "Yes, this is my mother, Demeter," she said.

"Persephone and Demeter?" Hayden asked, a little smile of his own quirking his lips.

Demeter huffed, tugging the sheets harshly over the mattress. "Hurry, Persephone," she urged her daughter.

Hayden could tell she loathed this entire exchange, but Hayden was amazed by her continued paragon of unprofessionalism. "Is your name ironic?" he asked, studying Persephone's face as if the answers were hidden there.

"Okay. We are done," Demeter said.

Persephone opened her mouth to reply to Hayden, but Demeter basically shoved her out of the room. She stumbled forward, brushing herself off and mumbling a soft protest, "Mother!"

Hayden growled, the sound coming from deep within his chest. "I asked her a question, and she was about to answer. You interrupted her," he said, standing at the door as Demeter ushered her and her daughter down the hall.

Demeter stopped and turned, glaring at Hayden. "She does not want to talk to you," she stated as if it were a simple fact.

"She wanted to answer," Hayden snapped back.

"I did, Mama," came Persephone's quiet, unsure voice. He decided he didn't like her acting like this – submissive and flaccid. He liked her bubbly, energetic aura when she bowed and gave him a hair and made him think he was receiving something so much better. But he still had no idea why he even _cared_ about her.

"Is your name ironic?" he asked her, his voice gentler. His gaze found hers, and again, the entire world fell away.

She smiled. Her teeth were so straight, and her eyes twinkled like they were made of pure sunshine. "I think so," she said. "But my mother would know."

"I do not know," Demeter hissed.

Hayden nodded. "Okay," he said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Persephone said. She waved goodbye to him, and he lifted a hand in return. He watched her walk down the hall with her mother, admiring the way she moved – a dancer without any music. When they disappeared into the elevator, he shut the door and turned around.

On the bed, a ray of sunshine fell, catching a glinting gold thread in its spotlight. Hayden blinked and moved toward it. It was a hair. A long, blond hair.

He gulped and touched it, winding it around his fingers. _Germs!_ a certain part of his mind warned. Hayden ignored it. Oddly enough, he tucked it under his pillow and felt like a creep afterward. _What is wrong with me?_

He reached for the phone to call the desk again… and stopped. He took the hair out again, his heart thumping and his stomach roiling like choppy waves. _I am such a freak,_ he thought and drew his thumb across the golden thread. _Why does it look so much like gold?_

Then he suddenly wondered something. And immediately dismissed the thought.

 _What if it's because she's precious?_


	5. Black Marble

Persephone followed her mother out. Demeter mumbled under her breath in Greek about how much of an unreasonable guest Hayden Styx was. Persephone was left to push the cart, hiding her smile behind the mountain of day-old sheets.

Demeter shuffled to the service elevator and pressed the button, her foot tapping with infinite impatience. "We need to get this thing fixed," she hissed.

"Someone might be using it," Persephone offered.

"Or it might be broken, darling," Demeter answered with matter-of-fact stubbornness. "You don't work in this place as often as I do. I have a connection with it. I know when things are broken."

Just then, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Persephone's smile widened, and she followed her mother inside, squashed between the wall and the cart. "It doesn't seem broken," she said.

Demeter ignored that comment and instead said, "How do you know that guest?"

"Who? Hayden?"

"Yes," her mother said, sounding similarly to a snake.

Persephone shrugged. "He was one of my clients in the spa the other day," she replied. "He… Well, he's difficult sometimes, but he just very rigid in his beliefs."

"Beliefs? What beliefs? Persephone, how long did you spend with that man?" Demeter asked. But it sounded similar to an accusation, and Persephone nearly sighed. She bit her tongue back though, afraid of irritating her mother further.

"An hour," she said. "As I said, he was my client. We talked."

The elevator door opened, and they squished out, her mother falling silent. Demeter's forehead scrunched up like it did when she was brooding, and Persephone had a feeling she wasn't going to like what her mother said next. Her hands clamped down tighter on the cart. She wondered a lot why she didn't just get another job. After all, when she was home, her mother loved to give her "life lessons" that seemed more like an opinion than a natural fact of life. Persephone felt as if her mother mapped out her mind, planning all its twists and turns and sucking out the joy of self-discovery.

"Mama, you've been quiet," Persephone observed carefully as they entered the basement. She could smell detergent, hot water, and sweat before she even reached the washroom.

Demeter stopped her right outside the laundry room, her eyes dark and almost afraid. Persephone had seen that look before several times. It made an appearance every time Persephone had a date or when she did something that disappointed Demeter. "Be _careful_ around that man, will you, Seph?" her mother said, her sweet voice full of motherly anxiety. "He seems prone to outbursts or fits of violence."

"Fits of violence? Mother, that's stretching the truth a bit, isn't it? He only wanted us to change the sheets!" Persephone exclaimed. Her mother always did this. Always took people way out of context and shaped them to fit a villainous mold.

"Yes, but can't you see how angry he is inside? He'll hurt you, Seph," Demeter said.

"Mother, I'm not _dating_ him!" She shook her head, completely blindsided. "You're taking this too far!"

Demeter laid her hand gently on Persephone's shoulder. "Remember, Seph, I'm the adult here," she said. "You'd do well to keep that in mind."

Persephone squared her shoulders, feeling like a child again. Her mother always talked down to her, and she had to get away from it. She _had_ to. But how?

"I'm only saying these things to protect you. I love you, Seph," Demeter murmured, hugging her daughter gently.

Her mother's arms felt secure, even after all these years. Persephone remembered all the bad storms her mother had held her, comforted her, and kissed her through. "Yeah, I love you too," she murmured. Maybe she was being too hard Demeter. After all, it was a mother's job to protect her child, and that's what she was doing – no matter how annoying it was.

"Okay. Now, I'm going to take these in and go back to my office. I have some expenses that need to be worked out, so would you please get me a coffee and meet me back there?" Demeter asked, pulling away and stroking some hair behind her daughter's ear.

"Yes, I can do that," Persephone said. She smiled softly, admiring how pretty her mother had stayed even into an older age. She had a full mouth, bright green eyes, and her wrinkles seemed endearing as if they cast a warm glow on her cheeks.

"Thank you," Demeter said. "I'll see you in a little bit."

She disappeared through the doors, letting in a waft of sweet-smelling detergent. Persephone watched her go then checked her pocket for her employee card before heading up to the coffee shop. The line held only two people, so she happily got in line, looking at the desserts in the glass cases. "Hmm… Do I want baklava?" she mused.

"Hey, Persephone," Hayden said directly behind her.

She jumped, startled. "Hay–" she began in English as she turned around, bumping into his chest. "Ah… I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away out the window. "It's all right, lo–um, it's all right," he mumbled. He pointed toward the dessert case, obviously trying to avoid her eyes. "I just saw you… I wanted to say thank you for standing up for me. And when I came over, you were saying something about baklava. Could I… buy that for you?"

Persephone grinned, covering her mouth to hide her laughter. "Well, you could, but that might not be fair," she replied, looking up at him.

He blinked, his cheeks flowering crimson. "What… what do you mean?" he asked.

Holding up her employee card, she said, "I have this. It lets me get whatever I want basically free. Of course, there are expenses not covered by revenue, but it isn't too much… I suppose." She shrugged and heard the employee, Alec, call for the next person in line. "Ah, one moment."

Hayden nodded. "Of course."

She headed to the counter, smiling at him. "Hello, Alec," she said, forgetting speak in Greek.

He gave her a small smirk and leaned on his chin. Though his English wasn't very good, he seemed to understand that. "Hello, Persephone," he said. "What… what do you want?"

Alec hadn't worked here long, but he seemed to get along well with most of the female employees. He was a little bit of a flirt, but that didn't bother Persephone too much. She knew a lot of men like that. "Ah, sorry," she said in Greek. "I'd like an iced café latte, a piece of baklava, a regular light roast, and… Wait one second." She turned to Hayden, switching back to English, "What do you want?"

"Me?" Hayden asked, looking surprised. He blinked and stuffed his hands into his pockets shyly. "Nothing, nothing. I'll get my own."

"No, I want to get you something," she pressed, grinning.

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. She tilted her head, admiring how clean and white his teeth were. He also had a beautifully chiseled chin, almost like a carved statue. However, she couldn't see him carved from white marble, she saw him made of a gleaming black marble that contrasted with the summer sunshine. He stood apart from the rest, his body a shadow instead of flesh, or night instead of day. "Um… Persephone?" he murmured. She never realized how beautiful his accent was. It flowed thickly from his mouth like honey, and she found she wanted to drown in it.

"Yes?" she asked dreamily.

"I… I'll have a dark roast, if you don't mind," he said, gulping. His hands pressed harder into his pockets, and his cheeks bloomed with another darker blush.

"A dark roast?" she chuckled. "Obviously."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. I'll happily get you that." She gave him another smile that he immediately glanced away from.

When she turned back to Alec, he blinked at her as if she was a stranger. "Can I have a dark roast too?" she asked him in Greek.

"Yeah," he mumbled, glancing over her at Hayden and then muttering something that sounded akin to a curse word.

She paid him, and he told her he'd have the drinks and baklava out in a moment. She thanked him and headed over to the other counter, watching Hayden follow her. He looked taller today, but maybe it was the black shirt and black pants he had on. "Why do you constantly wear black? It's hot out," she said in English.

"Well, I usually don't. I mean, I do, but… I don't know what I'm saying," he said, shaking his head. "Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Don't apologize," she giggled. "It's more than okay."

"God," he mumbled, rubbing his jaw. "You're so nice." He glanced down at her, his dark eyes finding hers with tentative interest.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. And you always smile."

"Is that a… good thing?" she asked. He was staring at her so intensely, his mouth pressed into a thin line. She felt a shadow grow over her, and she realized how intimidating he could be. He wasn't trying to intimidate her, was he? Because if so, that bothered her. That bothered her a whole hell of a lot. "Hey, step back. You're in my personal space."

She squared her shoulders and leaned imperceptibly forward, silently challenging him. His eyelashes fluttered, and he pulled away, his shoulders relaxing. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I didn't mean to bother you."

Shrugging, she relaxed again as well. "Yeah, it's okay."

He nodded and leaned against the wall. The silence stretched out until Alec handed them the drinks. They both nodded their thanks to him, and he nodded with a strained smile.

Persephone picked up her two drinks, putting one in the crook of her elbow and the other in her hand then grabbing the plate of baklava. "Could you please grab me a fork, Hayden, and put it on the plate?" she asked.

He snatched one from the counter and placed it next to the baklava. "Do you want me to help you carry anything?" he inquired cautiously.

"No, no, I'm fine. I have to take this to my mother, and I don't think she particularly wants to see you," she said, smiling. "No… no offense. I like you, but she doesn't."

"Yeah, I kind of got that," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, thanks for the coffee."

She grinned. "You're welcome!" she exclaimed. "I'll see you tomorrow? Maybe we can get lunch sometime."

"Yes, that sounds good," he answered. "Well, goodbye."

"Goodbye," she said. She turned and nearly skipped away, her heart fluttering. She heard his crisp footsteps snap toward the stairs, and she almost twisted around to see his ass. She wondered if it was as chiseled as the rest of him. _What am I doing?_ she wondered. _I'm acting like a schoolgirl. Hmm, but is it? Yes, I think it is._


	6. He Should Have Stopped It

**WARNING: THIS WILL CONTAIN RAPE. No, it's not between Hayden and Persephone, but it is there. It's moderately graphic, but I thought I would mention it because it's dark.**

Summer had crept around the corner in the few days Hayden had been at the resort. The heat was almost unbearable anywhere in the sun, and the beams coming in through the window seemed even hotter than outside. Hayden noticed this while sitting in the coffee shop the next morning. He sat there for only thirty minutes before he broke out into a sweat, and he had been sitting under an air vent.

He found a little parlor down the hallway toward the garden and stuck his head

inside, surprised to find it empty. But the stuffiness nearly made his skin wilt, so he hurried away. He hadn't taken the opportunity to sightsee at all yet, but he realized today wasn't the day to go. He came across a potted plant that had curled closer to itself as if hiding from the sunlight. It struck him that he disliked sunlight as well. He always kept the shades drawn in his office and in his bedroom back home in England and even in his hotel room. For a second, his fingers stroked one of the plant's broad leaves, and then he heard someone coming. Taking his hand away quickly, he nearly ran away. Hayden hated those strange, introspective moments where he disappeared within himself and realized there was something fundamentally and irrevocably wrong with him. As a kid, had he been this way, shying away from sunlight like a vampire? _A vampire with a lot of money and hellish brothers,_ he thought. His brothers, his goddamn brothers. They were the reason he'd come to this goddamn resort with the owner that hated them and the beautiful girl who was infinitely more compelling than sunshine.

He wondered if he should go find her. After all, she wanted to have dinner with him, so perhaps he should ask her if she had someplace special at which she wished to eat. But he would have to do it when Demeter wasn't around. She seemed like the type of mother to dictate every event in her daughter's life, and although it irritated Hayden to no end - that kind of control reminiscent of a tyrant, he understood that Persephone was loyal as hell to her mother and would choose her over him any day. A pang shattered through him, a swift kick of hatred that made him clench his fists. He didn't want to hate Demeter - he didn't have enough reason to. Still, he felt it deep in his gut, and it was already festering like a disease.

Rubbing his hands over his face for what felt like the hundredth time this week, he found himself

at the entrance to the gardens. The sunshine beaming overhead burned his eyes, and he imagined the flowers catching on fire and wilting from the intensity. It struck him that he hadn't left the resort at all since he'd arrived. He remembered the hot, disorienting ride from the airport in the yellow-orange taxi, already beginning to sweat. Could he really go out and see the sites? What sites were around here, anyway? He didn't even know.

And then, the idea hit him.

But where to find her?

Hayden sprinted toward the elevator, thinking she might have already begun to clean rooms. He

hurtled inside between an obvious American tourist in a Hawaiian-print shirt and an elderly lady who scooted away from Hayden in frustration. "You smell like sweat," she told him.

"Thanks," he snapped, jabbing the second floor button.

Once the doors opened, he fixed the collar of his button-down shirt and stepped into it. There were a few people waiting to get on, and they squeezed past him, not even offering so much as a sorry. He didn't either. He saw a door was open halfway down the left hallway and decided that was a good a place to start as any. Glancing inside, he saw no one, not even a cleaning cart. "Shit," he mumbled and decided to skip the elevator. He ran up the stairs, conscious that he would smell of sweat when he finally found her.

He was just about at the third floor landing when he heard a muffled cry. That had sounded like a grown woman's scream, not a child's. His blood chilled, and he crashed up the last two stairs. It had been her voice… He knew it had been. Did she fall? Was she okay?

Her cleaning cart stood outside a closed door, and as he neared it, he began to hear a haphazard almost-rhythm against the wall as if something was hitting it repeatedly. He tried to doorknob, his mind pounding along with the banging. "Open up! What the hell are you doing in there? Hey! Open up!" he shouted upon finding the door was locked.

Within moments, he heard a harsh voice hiss, "Shut up!"

Pressing his ear to the door, Hayden heard a whimper. "Hey! You asshole! Open up!" he shouted and kicked at the door. He didn't succeed in busting it open, but he managed to gain the attention of a neighboring guest who came out.

"What in God's name is going _on_ out here?" the woman shouted, her accent betraying a Latin American origin. She glared at Hayden with the intensity of hellfire.

"Something's going on in there!" he yelled, pointing to the door. _Please don't be rape, please please please…_ he thought vaguely, adrenaline numbing his body.

The woman's eyes widened. "Oh God…" she hissed, staring at the door with wide eyes.

Hayden kicked the door again and heard it splinter; he slammed his shoulder into it once more and came flying through the doorway along with the jagged pieces of wood. His head banged against the floor, but he jumped up, his skull ringing. Persephone's nails were digging into the wall, her eyes wide and her cheeks stained red and bruising. Tears streaked down her raw face, and Hayden could only hear white noise in his ears as he looked at the culprit. A man in his late thirties, white, and obviously crazy. The light in the man's blue eyes made Hayden let out an inhuman growl, and the man's face blanched, but his jaw tightened. He said something - something Hayden didn't hear. All Hayden could see was red and the man's penis stretching poor Persephone. "Out. Get out of her slowly. If you hurt her, oh God, if you hurt her even just a little bit more, I _will_ kill you. I'll go to fucking jail for it, I don't fucking _care_. Get. Out. Of. Her," he snapped, the white noise still keening but quietly now.

"Look, man-" the man tried.

"OUT. Of. Her," Hayden shouted. "You fucking bastard."

Persephone was crying uninhibitedly now, and Hayden noticed the blood and bruises on her hips. His blood raged through his veins, making him want to scream. To wake up the whole building and show them this man's worst sin, the sin he'd carry with him to his grave.

Finally, _finally_ , the man obeyed and slid slowly out of her. She collapsed, her body shaking and her tears dotting the carpet. By now, the neighbors still in the hotel had surrounded the door, and a few men grabbed the offender who protested heavily but to no avail.

Hayden couldn't look at him anymore. He knelt beside Persephone, deciding it would be better not to touch her. "Persephone…" he said, keeping his voice steady. Despite that, sadness had replaced the anger - a deep sadness that ached for her and her wounded body. He didn't understand what monster could do that, take an unwilling woman and fuck her for his own enjoyment. God, he hated that man. Fuck, he hated him.

Her fingers twitched, and she looked up at him. Her beautiful blue eyes made him want to cry, and he gulped. "Persephone," he tried again.

She placed her head on his lap, her eyelashes wet and black as her makeup ran. Her nose became outlined in gray as he watched her cry. He stroked her hair until the ambulance arrived and loaded her up into a stretcher. He watched as Demeter got in the back with her, and he had to leave so they could take her away. He felt a deeper hatred for Demeter - an unfair one but one all the same - for not being there when her daughter was raped. Was taken advantage of and forced to bend to a stranger's will. Persephone watched him step out of the ambulance, and she looked away from him as if she were ashamed, and his heart broke. He could hear it cracking like the ground buckling under the force of an earthquake. "I'm sorry," he called out, knowing it meant nothing.

She wouldn't look at him. He should have stopped it. He wasn't there, either.

He hated himself.


End file.
